Turning the Tables
by Gabigail
Summary: “If the unsub holds true to their pattern of behaviour, then I would say two days and one more victim at the very least.” Gideon replies leaning casually against the wall.
1. Turning the Tables

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

Authors Note: The title is tentative and as the stroy unfolds, will be updated accordingly. Please also note that this takes place after Nearly A Dozen, but will be the final in another three-piece mini-series. I have yet to pen the middle story, but it will encompass the case mentioned in this story (San Francisco). You will not doubt find the linkage with Nearly A Dozen.

Turning the Tables

Ever so slowly, his eyes flutter open. It almost feels like eternity and his mind continues to whirl in protest as his eyes adjust to the familiar shadows of his bedroom. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the only opening between the heavy drapes blinds him momentarily, slicing pain through his head. His arms are throbbing, the pins and needles jagged and running up and down his muscular arms. In an attempt to shift onto his lean side, he realises that his arms are artfully restrained over his head. With his mind still in a daze, he takes a shallow breath. How much did I drink? He ponders, managing a few quick calculations. Surely not enough to feel like this, he rests his head on his arm with a heavy sigh of defeat.

"What the hell?" he barks, dry mouthed at the empty room, or at least he believes the room to be so, as a slight shadow moves sensually towards the bed from the threshold. Stopping beside him, the shadow pauses only slightly, not in hesitation rather to lean in over him; the body heat radiates from her slight form and is felt by him.

"You're awake." Her voice is a whisper something akin to the glide of silk in his ear, her breath warm and inviting against his skin and is fragranced with the drinks consumed earlier. Attempting to move again, the restraints dig into his wrists, reminding him of his predicament. "Easy there big boy." She adds, letting her soft petal like lips graze his earlobe, then just as deliberately marks a trail along his strong jaw, all the while gagging his reaction with each kiss. "This is what you had in mind when you invited me in," she draws another breath, "is it not?" she continues her ministrations, teasing him by running knowing fingers across and down the expanse of his broad chest. His breath becomes caught in his throat as whatever had caused his head to spin appears to be wearing off, again he forgets the restraints and attempts to reach out towards her, only to hear the clink of metal on the cast iron headboard.

"How about unlocking these and we finish what we started?" he says in a raspy, husky tone, a tone that has probably aided him in his seduction of the ladies he has hunted. Leaning over him once more, she lets her satin covered breasts brush ever so gently against his bare torso.

"Perhaps in another lifetime." Her reply is coy as she abruptly moves off the bed towards the chair where her handbag resides. His eye widen, nearly bug out of their sockets when he catches the glimmer of the item she removes from the bag. "I find it rather ironic that scum, such as yourself, deem yourself worthy of being with a woman like me. If you didn't know it then, you will now. I'm far too good for you. Perhaps the others fell into your little trap, but tonight, tonight you fell into mine." Her laugh or giggle that emits from her throat is dark and sinister, reminiscent of those in the movies. Her eyes are dark and quickly scan the room searching for something, resting upon the clothing strewn haphazardly about the bedroom. She reaches for a sock and shoves it into his mouth to muffle his screams.

He moans against the sock, she pauses in surprise of how similar to the sound of one pleading for his life they are. With great skill, she artfully runs the knife along and up, then back down his chest careful not to draw blood. Enjoying the pleasure coursing through her tiny core as she watches his reactions, she revels in the pleasure of being in control. The fear in his eyes, the sweat creeping down his temple and his continuing moans only add to her quasi-euphoric state.

Growing tired of her game, she falls into her rhythm and settles herself into her groove. With the skill of a surgeon, she is quick in locating the radial artery in both of his muscular arms and just so, and runs the knife deeply along them one at a time, both oozing blood. Unsuccessful in spitting out the sock, his body begins to go into shock, and violently shakes in protest. Watching him for a long moment, a trance like state washes over her and just as suddenly she comes out of it. Running the blade across his throat, the blood sputters and covers her satin shift and porcelain skin. Although she is certain that he is dead, she plunges the knife into his chest, making sure that it pierces his heart. Staring at him for a long moment, she finally removes the sock and gently kisses his lips then saunters towards the bathroom.

Stepping into the glass walled, marble shower stall, she turns on the water. Standing underneath the water, she enjoys the way the water rushes over and caresses her body as it removes most of the blood. Gliding the soap across her chest, up and down her long lean legs, she sighs contently and rinses the shampoo from her raven locks, then the soap from her body. Turning off the water, she carefully steps out of the shower, then pats her skin dry with a fluffy towel; all the while humming Chopin's _Funeral March_. Once dressed, she wraps everything up in the used towel, removes the restraints, plucks the bloodied knife from his chest, and surveys the room for any 'evidence' of her visit. Content, she picks up her purse and makes her way out of his apartment through a side entrance. Tossing the bundle into one of the trash bins, she walks down the deserted, familiar streets towards her own apartment, continuing to hum the _Funeral March_. Opening the door, she flips on the light and goes straight to her bedroom to get ready for bed, her last thought is that it is well past three in the morning and beyond the witching hour.

* * *

With another rough and highly emotional case behind them, the team board the plane in an eerie silence, each left with the bittersweet aftertaste of victory in their mouths. Special Agent Jason Gideon in particular has taken the result of their latest endeavour badly and the ever so observant Hotchner immediately notices his closed behaviour. Content to sit away from the rest of the team, the seasoned profiler shifts in his usual tan seat near the rear of the cabin. Gideon lets his head sink into the headrest and recounts the case from the beginning to its inevitable conclusion. Mere moments after receiving the news that he has been deemed to return to full duty, J.J. quickly informed him of the San Francisco police departments request for their assistance in a series of abductions. The un-sub had taken to kidnapping little girls, dressing them up like dolls before violently taking from them their innocence; then torturing and murdering them. 

With the onset of a headache, Gideon closes his eyes against the tension, but cannot shake the crime scene that seems to have seared itself into his memory, from playing out. He attempts to steady his breathing, yet behind his eyelids he re-experiences his discovery. He cautiously travels down the dark hallway; with gun poised to fire if need be. He kicks the door in, gasping in shock when his eyes rest upon seven-year-old Cassandra Clinton, who despite having endured all that she has, appears serene, almost angelic in her pose. He surveys the room, ensuring the un-sub's absence and places his gun back in its holster. Pausing at her bedside, he curses himself for being too late and he can feel his heart as it shatters, falling into his shoes, along with the blood that drains from his body. His stomach seems to follow suit, suddenly churning violently, nearly causing him to retch, which he thankfully manages to avoid.

She's just a little girl, he thinks to himself as he mentally notes how tender the un-sub had been in his twisted way. Cassandra had been cleaned up, dressed in a clean, frilly nightgown, her hair even braided in pigtails. The un-sub had just as kindly, placed her upon the bed, covering her with the blankets as though putting her to bed for the evening, even wrapping her delicate arms around a teddy bear. The fact that they had been successful in apprehending the un-sub, they had been too late to save Cassandra from his clutches. The feeling of defeat, leaving Gideon empty as he is now left with crime scene photographs and an autopsy report, rather than a photograph of a smiling little girl to add to his already cluttered cabinet in his very well lived in office.

Sighing heavily and letting his head fall against his chest, he senses someone watching him. Opening his eyes and slowly lifting his head, he's not surprised to find Doctor Spencer Reid wearing an equally tired expression. Mixed within near exhaustion is concern for the object of study. Careful not to break eye contact, Gideon quietly shakes his head as an indication that he is all right; however, in truth, he is far from it. Somehow, he hopes that his façade of strength will offer the younger man some comfort.

Reid offers a small smile, which Gideon immediately reads as a bit on the stiff side and instead of commenting, he reaches towards the chessboard and slides it between them. Unable to refuse a game of chess as a diversion, Reid opens the box, and with slender fingers, begins to set the pieces in their respective places on the board.

"How long have the two of you been at it?" Elle's voice is still thick with sleep and Gideon watches as she swings her long legs over the edge of the small sofa, the blanket he had draped over her earlier, falling to the floor in a pool around her ankles.

"Not long." Reid replies and tries to read Gideon's expression before moving his knight.

"Are you all right?" she inquires picking up the fallen blanket, folding it, she places it beside her. Gideon looks at her for a long moment, his expression remains stoic and she presumes that he is stalling. Concluding that he isn't ready to discuss his experience, she nods. "It's okay," she pauses, "uh, Reid."

"Yes?" his attention pulled towards her.

"I wouldn't do that." She adds getting up and heading towards the restroom to freshen up. Returning, she picks up the blanket, drapes it around her strong shoulders, scoots Gideon over and sits next to him while he and Reid continue their game. Smirking, she notes that Reid's knight proudly stands upon the tabletop on Gideon's side of the board with the other captured pieces. "That's why." She cannot help herself, and Reid sends her a quick glare. Pausing in thought, Gideon turns to face her.

"You play?" she nods and continues to study the board, discreetly eyeing potential moves for both players. "Well then, one day you and I will have to have a game," he moves his bishop. "Check in three." Adding with a warm smile, he sits back in the leather seat and waits for Reid's reaction.

Once the plane lands and the team collect their effects, they quickly disembark, and walk through the still dark parking lot to their respective cars.

"See you in a couple of hours." Hotchner says to the team, as they part.

"Yeah, a couple of hours." Elle smirks, closing her door; she starts the engine and turns on the radio before pulling out of the slot.

"What's with her?" Reid inquires.

"She needs her beauty sleep." Morgan quips, snickering, then flashes a toothy grin.

"You can ask her in the morning." Gideon replies stifling a yawn.

"It is morning." Reid replies, unable to stop a yawn.

"See you later then." Gideon closes the door of his black SUV.

* * *

With very little sleep under her belt, Elle manages to drag herself into work. Gracelessly plopping herself into her chair, she grabs the coffee cup and takes another sip while reading through the file from their last case. Morgan and Reid are almost as drained as she is. Morgan nearly nods off. Lifting her head, Elle catches J.J., who is extremely hard to miss buzzing around the office and they quickly deduce that something is brewing. Even Morgan notices as J.J. dashes from her office to Gideon's; then just as quickly nearly jogs to Hotchner's with her arms full of files in varying weight and thickness. 

"That looks like a biggie." Morgan states under his breath. Elle manages a sigh, then closes her eyes for a moment.

"I thought we just finished a biggie." She waits for the tell-tail signal from J.J., Gideon, or Hotch that indicates their assembling in one of the many conference rooms.

"Elle, you know as well as I do that just because we've finished a difficult case, it doesn't mean the bad guys take time off." Morgan says and lets the file lie open on his desk.

"I know, I just need a real vacation." She rubs the back of her neck and lets her gaze rest on Gideon's door.

"BAU team, please assemble in the media room." Hotchner announces as he literally flies from Gideon's office to his own, with J.J. on his heels.

"See?" Elle rolls her eyes as the three of them collect their needed pens, pencils, and pads or notebooks.

"The latest victim is or rather was Ian Byrnes." J.J. begins, handing out the files she had prepared for the team. "Local PD believe that he is the tenth victim in their fifth three week cycle."

"A cycle?" Reid lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers and he just as quickly looks away.

"Apparently, there have been five, separate three week cycles in the past year alone." Hotchner fills in the details. "Granted, the cases have been published in local papers; however, the media haven't found reason to connect the deaths. From the evidence provided these murders are defiantly the work of a serial killer. All of the victims are male, there is no sign of sexual assault; rather a great, very deliberate display of power." Gideon takes to pacing the room.

"The un-sub is confident in his ability." He pauses waving a hand through the air. "They meet their prey at the local bar or club." He turns, glances at one of the screens. "He is able to overpower his victim." Gideon rattles off the textbook un-sub with ease. Morgan thinks for a moment, his eyebrows furrow.

"Have there been any actual leads in the case?" he inquires staring at the crime scene photos that J.J. had brought up on the various screens that had been set up in the space.

"No one seems to know or have seen anything." J.J. sits in her seat and sighs. "I've poked about my media connections. They seem just as baffled as the police." Collecting her files, she stands. "I'll make the arrangements and cut through some of the red tape. Hopefully, it will make it easier for you." Adding, she exits and dashes off to her office.

"Morgan, I think it's best that you go through all of the crime scene photographs with as fine a toothed comb as you can. I want to know exactly what is going through this un-sub's mind." Gideon instructs him, plucks a file out of his pile, and hands it, a very thick, quasi-volume of a file that contains most if not the entire collection of crime scene photographs, to him. Elle watches Morgan to gage his reaction and is slightly surprised when he doesn't even flinch.

"Reid, can you give him a hand with that, we're going to need your memory." He adds then turns his attention towards Elle.

"You mentioned that this un-sub expresses a great deal of power. I realise that your main focus is on that primary display, but I'm almost certain that sexuality is indeed a contributing factor." She says, almost as though knowing his thoughts, before he has the chance to address her. She turns herself, looks up at Gideon intently. "I would like to go over the other crime scene photographs with Morgan and Reid. That will definitely assist in establishing the exact extent to which the imbalance between sex/sexuality and power lie. Is Garcia able to put them up on these screens? I think it would be more efficient then passing around the photos." Glancing down at the file in front of her for a moment, she bites at the bottom of her berry painted lip.

"What is it?"

"I'm not quite sure. I should, rather, I will have a definitive answer as soon as we've been through those photographs." Adding, she lets her rigid posture relax and she sits back in her seat. Gideon nods, impressed at the speed with which the team seems to have come alive after such a trying case.

To Be Continued…


	2. Dancing with the Devil

A/N: Disclaimer can be found in the previous chapter.  
Because the chapters are 'shorter' it is harder to divide them accordingly, so I hope the chaptersaren't too disjointed.

* * *

"How long has this been going on, exactly?" Hotchner inquires as Gideon closes the door behind them.

"Initially, the murders began in February." Virginia Police Captain Neil Henderson replies, sitting confidently behind his desk. "At first we thought it was because of Valentine's Day. I'm sure you're well aware of the statistics pertaining to murders and suicides surrounding and during that day in particular." He adds with a tight frown.

"This isn't the work of your average Joe. The evidence suggests that we are dealing with a serial killer." Hotchner states as he sits in one of the chairs.

"Look, all we have to work with are five three week cycles and ten bodies." Henderson snaps. "The kicker is that forensics have yet to turn up something of significance that will crack the case. We literally have nothing as far as DNA samples, foreign fibres or anything else that yields a suspect. It seems to us that shy of a ghost; we haven't a single individual to pin these murders on. Seriously gentlemen, do you honestly think that we would call you if we had the slightest idea of who we're looking for."

"Well, now that we are here, I'm sure that you will allow us to do our job." Gideon remains cool. Henderson stares at him, long and hard.

"I know what you are capable of, which is why we need the ace in our hand. Agent Gideon, you and your team are the best and quite frankly, we need the best in our back pocket." He shuffles through a few papers before standing. "I presume that you will need access to our files?" Hotchner nods and they follow Henderson to the main office. "Agent Jareau warned me of how the BAU works." He utters under his breath. "Take over." Both Gideon and Hotchner ignore his snide remark.

"Everyone. May I have your attention?" Henderson stands in front of his officers. "The FBI's BAU team are here to assist us with this latest case. I know that you will be accommodating. Please offer them any notes you have, access to the crime scene photographs, even discuss with them any ideas or theories that you may have. Any information that we can provide them with will inevitably assist us in catching this bastard." He turns the floor over to Hotchner.

"Thank you Henderson." He pauses, a tactic employed to read his audience, to know how much information to reveal at this time. "We appreciate any assistance which will facilitate in our establishing a working profile with which you will be able to use in apprehending the un-sub. Hopefully we will work seamlessly together and have our un-sub in interrogation, a quick confession, and a closed case."

"Agent Gideon is it?" a voice comes from the back of the room.

"Yes?" he replies, acknowledging the officer.

"This came for you." He weaves through the mass of people and hands him an envelope.

"Thank you." Turning back to the group. "We hope to have the working profile available to you this evening. Tomorrow morning the latest." He smiles and everyone returns to their desks and whatever mountain of paperwork they had been working on prior to the FBI's interruption.

Leading the team into a smaller conference room that had been set up prior to their arrival, J.J. quickly opens the file of their latest victim. She tapes the crime scene photographs onto the board at the front of the room. Elle sits herself in a seat beside Derek Morgan and together, they sift through the forensics reports.

"It says here that they didn't find evidence that would assist in locating their suspect." Morgan tilts his head in thought.

"Is it possible that the un-sub doesn't have a criminal record? A first timer perhaps?" Reid wonders aloud. "Granted, the skill with which is employed seems as though a great deal of study had to occur in order to achieve this result." He points towards the photograph. "The coroner's report states that the victim had been drugged; only enough to be overpowered. That would indicate a smaller un-sub. If not in height, it's possibly in girth."

"How many more days do we have left in this cycle?" J.J. inquires as she sits herself between Reid and Hotch.

"If the un-sub holds true to their pattern of behaviour, then I would say two days and one more victim at the very least." Gideon replies leaning casually against the wall. He runs a hand through his cropped hair and then steps closer to the board. Mentally shifting the information, lips part ever so slightly as he tilts his head in thought.

"Here we go." Morgan states under his breath.

"In terms of the physical evidence found on the scene. Has there been any reoccurring theme or themes?" Elle inquires.

"Reoccurring themes?" Hotchner looks at her for a moment.

"I wish I could see something, but other than the fact that each crime scene is literally wiped clean of any trace evidence, that's all we have to work with."

"An obsessive mind." Gideon interjects.

"Not much help." Elle sighs heavily. "We are missing something very significant." Standing, she leaves in need of a change of perspective. Sensing her vibe, Gideon follows and they end up in the break room.

"Coffee?" she doesn't look at him while she reaches for a paper cup and fills it with the steaming liquid caffeine.

"Please." He replies and she hands him the cup, he adds some cream and stirs it with a thin plastic stick. "So what's going on?"

"I just have this feeling that once we get that missing piece the case will break open." She replies and they sit in the chairs, a small coffee table between them.

"You look absolutely exhausted."

"Thanks." She sips her coffee and rolls her eyes. "I need a good solid eight hours of sleep, then I'm sure I'd have a better perspective," she pauses. "Before you say anything. I know, that I can't do that and will get used to this. I just need a break from chasing monsters. I chase them in my waking hours and when I ought to be asleep."

"Elle, we all experience nightmares. I know that it's probably one of the more difficult aspects of the job, yet at the same time, we win." He leans towards her and gently touches her arm. She nods and slowly matches his gaze.

"I normally have things under control. A routine that has never failed me," she sighs, sips her coffee, "until now. It's just that we hardly have the Wisconsin case under wraps, then we're off to San Francisco, and when we finally get a home case, it's just as heinous as the others. When are vacations in order?" her dark eyes hold hope of some time away from the monsters.

"Soon, I promise. Hotch and I have been trying to work something out so that the team will have a couple of weeks off. We have all worked very hard. Take a breather. We'll get this un-sub, just as we did the others." His expression is kind and holds a warmth she finds endearing.

"Sounds wonderful. I can't wait." She returns his kindness with a soft smile of her own. "By the way," she pauses, choosing her words carefully, "are you all right? You seem more intense somehow. I know it's not my business."

"That's never stopped you before." He says with a glint in his eye, she looks down for a moment.

"It just seems to me that once you received that letter, you haven't quite been yourself. Just an observation."

"A bit of bad news is all. Everything will be fine." He replies, brushing the thought aside. She nods her understanding. That was the beauty of their relationship, one always understanding the other beyond mere words. She reaches out once more and rests a comforting arm on his broad, strong shoulder and he covers her hand with his own.

"I suppose we had better get back." He takes her paper cup and puts it in the trash with his own. Morgan stands frozen in the doorway. Both Elle and Gideon are unable to read his expression.

"Hotchner was wondering. Never mind." He stammers, something very out of character for him, they watch as he quickly makes a dash for the conference room. Shrugging, they follow rejoining the team.

"Gideon, I think that we ought to break for dinner. We'll be able to return to Quantico, split up and work undisturbed, which will allow us to assemble our preliminary profile." Hotchner suggests. Gideon; however, is well aware of the fact that they had already agreed upon the suggestion while he and Elle were in the break room. Because the evidence had been packed into three boxes and their notebooks, pens, and other papers tucked away as well, Gideon merely smiles his agreement. Instead of further discussion, Gideon nods his agreement and they make their way to the SUVs. Hotchner drives one and Morgan the other.

Managing to get through a meal at a local restaurant with conversation that for one didn't encompass cases past and present, they agree to stop at a popular coffee shop to pick up deserts and coffee for the long night ahead. Arriving at Quantico, they aren't surprised to find that most have gone for the night. Claiming a conference room, they unpack some of the photographs from one of the boxes, then the files from another.

"Morgan, you and Reid will head to the media room and work through those photographs. Morgan, we'll get you access to the last crime scene in the morning." Hotchner begins. "Gideon, I think it best that you work with Elle, we have Garcia on call and I'll work with J.J. on getting her press kit prepared. We don't want to connect the dots for the media. Right now, we have the upper hand and if they in any way, shape or form connect these cases, we'll loose that advantage."

"Reid, I also want you to go through all of the forensic reports. That way when you go with Morgan tomorrow, you'll have a better idea of what to look for." Reid nods his understanding. The team split into their groups and begin working through the evidence. Once Morgan and Reid are finished, they switch rooms with Gideon and Elle, and so on, until each pair has had the chance to review and sift through the evidence. Gideon's gaze falls on Elle, who leans over an open file, propping her head with her hand, she then rubs her temples.

"Elle I think it's probably best for you to head home."

"We still have so much to do." She protests, trying to stifle a yawn. He glances at the clock on the wall. Closing the distance between them, he rests his hand on the back of her chair and leans in towards her.

"I think we all ought to get some rest. I'm sure we've put a good dent in the information and we'll have a complete profile in the morning." He says warmly.

"You already have a profile. It's just a matter of how long it takes the rest of us to figure it out." She tilts her head.

"We'll discuss the profile in the morning." He winks and the team reassembles in the main conference room.

"Tomorrow morning we will meet here at ten." Hotchner says, closing the file in front of him.

"Ten?" Reid's eyebrows furrow.

"Unless you and Morgan want to head to the last crime scene earlier?" Gideon arches a brow.

"Ten is good." Morgan answers quickly cutting Reid off and the group gather their jackets before breaking for the evening.

* * *

The dance floor is packed with people moving gracefully to the pulsating music. She twirls within the skilled arms of her partner and continues to sway to the music's hypnotic rhythm. 

"Let's say we get out of here?" he doesn't have to yell over the music and she looks him in the eye and nods her ascent. Letting him lead her off the floor, they easily make their way through small groups of people, past the bouncer and into the night.

He opens and closes the door quickly behind them, wrapping her up in his arms, locking lips. Kicking off her heels, her feet hardly touch the floor as she is whisked towards the bedroom. Clothes are unzipped, unfastened, and fall to the floor in small puddles. He sets her down on the bed and holds up a hand.

"I'll be right back. Don't move." He says smiling wickedly, she bats her eyelashes and makes her way to her purse. The vile is small and she sets herself back in the bed, vial concealed when he returns with two glasses and a bottle. He climbs into bed and pours the wine. Turning to put the bottle on the nightstand, he does not see her tap some of the vials powdered contents into his glass. They toast each other and the wonderful evening ahead. Hardly having the chance to touch her, his eyes feel incredibly heavy and he drops the glass. Kissing his forehead, she smiles more to herself as she gathers her props. Her routine now down to a science, she raises his arms above his head, and snaps the restraints in place, gathers the glasses, the bottle and turning off the light, finds the kitchen. Placing the dirty glasses in the dishwasher, not caring as to whether or not the dishes are clean or dirty, puts the powder in the cup and closes the steel door, popping the button. Satisfied that she has ridden herself of the key evidence and that her evening dance partner is more than likely coming to, she opens the bedroom door.

Not taking the time she has with her slue of previous victims, she notices the clammy cold sweat dampening his brow. She's far more confident, more forceful than with the last victims, she realises she's in full control. Straddling him, she deftly touches his face with slender fingers and the sly smile that tugs at the corners of her lips widening ever so slighting then forming a toothy grin.

"This is quite the predicament." His voice is horse, his laugh throaty. "Although, I must admit isn't exactly what I had in mind. But I'll play." He is confident despite his position of almost complete submission. She merely leans down, her lips pressing into the crease at the base of his thick neck; she nips at the sensitive skin.

"Play? Is that what you think this is?" she grasps the knife she had placed on the bedside table. His expression changes almost as quickly as her mood, to utter shock.

"Listen, this really isn't what I had in mind." He stammers unable to get his wrists out of the restraints. "I just thought that we'd come back to my place for some fun."

"Perhaps you misunderstood." She replies as she rips a piece of bedding, screwing it up, creating a fair sized clump and shoves it into his mouth as she has with her previous victims.

* * *

Reid ducks under the caution tape and slips his hands into a pair of latex gloves. An odd feeling runs through him as he mentally notes that it is very similar to the others; nothing taken, nor left behind. Moving though the room, he observes the crime scene photographer taking the numerous and necessary pictures, the medical examiner as he makes his notations, and Elle and Gideon walking around the room while Hotchner and Morgan must be elsewhere. 

"Estimated time of death?" Gideon inquires. The M.E. looks at the thermometer, then raises his eyes towards Gideon.

"Judging from the core body temperature and based on the fact that there is air conditioning," he pauses, "I would have to guess that the time of death fell in around one and three this morning." Gideon nods, closed lipped and their attention seems to be drawn towards Elle, who has managed to detach herself from the main room and slip into the adjoining bath.

"Gideon, would you take a look at this?" they all hear her call. Hotchner and Morgan enter the room and stand behind with Reid. "I suppose this is the needle that we're in dire need of?" she points to her finding. He tilts his head, glancing around the room.

"Could we get the photographer in here please?" he calls and the photographer arrives, camera and yellow plastic plaques in tow. He places the plaque beside the lone piece of evidence and snaps a few photos. Gideon gets a plastic bag from his pocket and carefully places the lone raven strand within.

"At the very least, it may lead us to an un-sub." Finding the head forensic scientist on the scene, he hands him the baggie to be processed.

"I'll put a rush on this, but keep in mind that it could take anywhere from a couple of days to weeks." Gideon nods his understanding and the team gather in the main room.

"I think we have our preliminary profile." Hotchner announces. "We should head back to Quantico and prepare it."

"I'd like to stay behind and get a better feeling for the crime scene. I don't wish another to gather what I need." Morgan says.

"Morgan, would you mind if I stayed behind with you?" Reid pipes in.

"No, of course not." He replies as the rest of the team file out into the hall in silence.

"What do you think?" Reid inquires standing before the bed and watching as the coroner begins to shimmy the body into the thick black bag. Morgan's lips twitch in thought and he turns to face the scene.

"I think it's safe to presuppose that this victim has been drugged like the rest." Morgan sighs.

"Even so, the un-sub would have to have some major upper body strength to get their intended victim here." Reid follows Morgan's train of thought.

"An accomplice perhaps?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I find it very odd that the only thing found this time round is that hair."

"Do you think that our un-sub has begun to regress?"

"Mistakes are common when that occurs; however, in this case, it seems highly unlikely." Reid looks at the blood soaked bed and shakes his head. "Elle's right. There is more to this. This murder should never have happened." He adds with a deep frown.

"What do you mean?"

"The un-sub was sloppy. If this murder were meant to occur, had it been planned it would no doubt have gone on without a hitch. The hair Elle found was the hitch." Reid replies gently picking up the boxed bed shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know. Thought I might find something that would help." He replies letting the skirt fall back into place.

"Okay, presuming that I don't have an accomplice, I drug my intended victim. How do I go about doing this? Its obvious that the victim would not be able to get back to his place if he were sedated."

"Right, so I would have done that here."

"Exactly!" Morgan exclaims. "I would get my victim to get us something to drink and slip something in it."

"That's possible." Reid replies. Morgan seems to pace for a moment.

"If I'm the un-sub I'm definitely female."

"That's too far out in left field!"

"How so? Every other angle leads us to major road blocks." Morgan replies.

"Then you're suggesting that the team has the wrong profile."

"Everything about the un-sub is correct. We just got the gender wrong." He replies and they duck under the caution tape and Morgan dials Hotchner's cell while Reid drives back to Quantico.

To Be Continued…


	3. Thinking Well Beyond the Box

A/N: The almighty disclaimer can be found in the first chapter. I'm still getting there in terms of writing the actual story and thank you in advance for your patience in the matter. I am still in search for the un-sub, once it becomes clear the end should be just around the bend. Feel free to make suggestions. It always helps when input is added to the mix. Thanks against to those who have taken the time to read and review... I know it's summer and there are so many other things that one could be doing.

* * *

The morning breeze plays with the light sheers that filter the sun's rays. Opening her eyes, she shifts and stretches like a cat. Flinging the covers from her slender body, she swings her long lean legs over the edge and slips her feet into her awaiting slippers. Stretching her arms over her head, with another yawn, she reaches towards her housecoat.

"HOLY SHIT!" her exclamation fills her empty room. Up her arms runs rust coloured splatters of something that smells a lot like iron. She looks down at her silken shift, her eyes begin to well up with tears, and her body begins to tremble. "What do I do?" she whispers to herself, springing from her bed and nearly running to the bathroom to wash the caked on blood from her porcelain skin. Tossing the shift into the trash, she steps into the shower and nearly scalds her skin with hot water. Rubbing her arms, slathering soap over her body she continues to whisper, "what do I do?" as the tears continue to fall over the ridge of her now rose cheeks. Even the towel, she dries herself with doesn't seem to help her feel any cleaner. Sitting on the edge of the tub, contemplating her options, her eyes rest upon the wastepaper basket and the shift that haphazardly hangs over the edge. Squinting, she gingerly reaches for it and slowly pulls it from the basket with a gentle swish. "What?" her voice puzzled in her own ears as the shift is pristine. Not a drop of dried, rust coloured blood. Breathing slowly to regain her head, she collapses to the floor sobbing.

* * *

"Agent Gideon, I assure you that she didn't do it." Henderson barks into his phone. "She's our top forensic scientist. She provides the DA with essential testimony." 

"Detective Henderson, we are not accusing Belinda of any wrong doing, we merely wish to question her. Its standard procedure."

"She didn't do it." He states, possibly in an attempt to reassure himself of her innocence.

"Right now, the evidence appears to be stating otherwise." Gideon says in a quiet, controlled manner.

"I don't care what you say. Belinda didn't kill those men. Give me a motive. Convince a jury of her guilt." He adds hotly.

"I think that's getting a little too far ahead." Gideon says coolly.

"What will you have me do?"

"I'm sure she is well aware of the situation. One of her co-workers would probably have mentioned something to her about it. She may have even done the test herself. Now if you were to attempt to get in touch with her for questioning, and she has somehow managed to disappear, I would say we have our un-sub. However, I highly doubt that to be the case."

"I suppose your team will head the questioning?" he inquires with a sigh.

"At this point, as it would appear that you're a bit close, I think it best."

"I'll have her brought into the station then. I'll instruct them not to begin until you and your team arrive."

"I appreciate that." Gideon replies ringing off.

"Gideon, what is it?" Hotchner asks, poised to knock on the doorframe.

"The DNA on the strand of hair belongs to Belinda Edwards."

"She's one of the top forensic scientists in the country."

"I know," he pauses as he stands, "and we had better get to the station." Hotchner nods.

"Will we need the team?" Hotchner inquires.

"I don't believe so. Reid is capable of leading this." He replies stopping at the younger man's desk. Reid's hair falls from its place tucked behind his ear as he lifts his head. "Detective Henderson called to let us know the result of the DNA on the hair that Elle found at the last crime scene." Upon hearing her name, Elle raises her head.

"That was fairly quick. Usually it takes weeks, even months for conclusive results." Her expression is quizzical and Gideon wonders if it isn't slightly on the sceptical side.

"I suppose there was a rush ordered." He places his hands on Reid's desk. "Reid, I would like you to lead the questioning. Hotchner will accompany you." He gives Reid an encouraging look and the younger man nods his head and collects a file. "Keep me informed. Hotchner will brief you on your way." He adds over his shoulder going back to his office.

"Thanks." Reid says under his breath and he shoves the file into his messenger bag. "Belinda Edwards?"

"I know. I can't help but think of some sort of set up."

"Very possible. I don't recall seeing her at the crime scene."

"I believe she had already completed her initial report before we arrived. I highly doubt that she would have gone into the adjoining bathroom. She may have been observing or training a new hire." Hotchner turns into the Virginia police parking lot. "Don't forget, we're fairly certain that it isn't her. We just want to verify that." He doesn't see Reid roll his eyes, recalling his last solo endeavour, in which case he had been merciless.

Reid follows Hotchner into the smaller room that adjoins the interrogation room where Belinda Edwards sits in wait. Reid nervously licks his lips. Hotchner stands at the one-way glass, arms crossed tightly, watching the thirty-something year old woman sitting in the uncomfortable chair, her head in her hand in thought. He does not see what he should in an innocent individual. Something about her screams that she is definitely hiding something, what exactly, he remains unsure. Reid clears his throat.

"Show time." He states and taps the door before opening it. She lifts her head and stares at the young man, Hotchner wonders if it is an attempt to intimidate him, or just get a read on him.

"Belinda Edwards?" He hears Reid's voice over the speaker in the adjoining room; Hotchner listens intently, so much so the detective standing beside him can see his jaw tighten. Lifting her head, her dark raven locks fall from behind her ear. "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid." He continues.

"I've read a lot about you." She replies calmly. He tries not to blush, but can feel the heat of modesty rise from his toes. Attempting to maintain his composure, he smiles. "This case has taken quite the turn." She adds tilting her head.

"I have to concur, at this point the only physical evidence is the single raven strand."

"I could hardly believe it. Detective Henderson put a rush on it. I'm surprised I had managed to conduct the proper testing in a matter of days rather than weeks."

"When you realised that the DNA markers were your own." He stops and looks at the one-way glass.

"I admit that I was shocked and immediately had my colleague, Kip Kingston, complete the remainder of the tests. I'm sure that you are well aware that we compared the sample with those in our databases." Reid leans in towards her. "My understanding is that all of this is a formality; however, I'm not doing my job right now and there's a sick psycho murdering men. The only thing I can think of is a hair had come out of my braid, or something to that effect. It has been known to happen."

"If I recall correctly the Turner case had been turned on its head when the sample collected at the crime scene belonged to one of the officers."

"Exactly. You can imagine how I have been feeling. I thought it best to get this part done so that I can at least get back to the samples for other cases that are pending."

"I appreciate your time Dr. Edwards." Reid shuffles through the files contents, straightening the pages then closes the file.

"Belinda is fine." Her smile that accompanies the correction is warm and inviting. "It's been a pleasure." She extends her hand and he shakes it quickly before leaving the room. She remains seated for a moment, possibly expecting a second round, but Hotchner is certain that Gideon's take on the situation must be correct and they head back to Quantico.

"One down. The real un-sub to go." Hotchner utters under his breath in the elevator as it stops at their floor.

"There's still something not right Hotch." Reid runs slender fingers through his tousled hair. "Why didn't you want to question her?"

"She told the truth. Besides, we've always known that it wasn't her." He says, heading to Gideon's office. Brushing his knuckles against the door as he opens it, he pauses. "Sorry Jason, I'll come back later."

"No, that's okay. This is Jane Martin." Gideon gestures towards the woman seated in front of him. He nods curtly and waits for her to turn towards Gideon before giving him an incredibly puzzled expression. "She might have some insight pertaining to our recent case."

"Not to be rude Jason, but we haven't made enough information available to the public."

"I realise that, however, Henderson thought that we might want to hear what she has to say."

"That being?"

"This is going to sound crazy, and I seriously thought that I was in the process of loosing it." She turns her attention towards Hotchner, he merely gestures for her to continue. "For the past several months I have awoken with the almost physical evidence of murder." She pauses.

"Nightmares?" Hotchner tries not to sound too sceptical.

"Well, I suppose they have been part of it; however, this morning was far more graphic than I could bear." Hotchner's expression seems to soften and he moves to sit in the seat across from her. "I don't know if you're familiar with the being so incredibly connected to others that you potentially 'feel' what that individual is experiencing. That imaginary thread that binds, creating a connection that far surpasses comprehension that can actually break one's concentration. Essentially, the dream aspect, or nightmares that some experience can be considered a plane upon which that individuals subconscious allows them to work through whatever issues they cannot in the waking realm. In my case, the dreams themselves pale in comparison to what I experienced this morning." She takes a steadying, deep breath and with a trembling hand, she reaches for the paper cup on Gideon's desk. Having to hold it in both hands, she takes a much-needed sip to compose herself. "I have become accustomed to having dreams so vivid I thought I was awake. Recently I have been dreaming of death, but never to the extent that I've awoken to find myself covered in blood."

"Pardon me?" he blinks.

"As I reached out towards my housecoat this morning, dried blood was all up my arm. When I looked down at my nightshift, it was covered in it as well. I could see and smell it. I will never forget it. I've never experienced that before and freaked out." She wipes her eyes with a tissue. Hotchner gives Gideon an odd look, but reaches out and runs a comforting hand along her shoulders.

"When you say that you were there at the crime scenes, do you mean as the murderer, or an observer?" Hotchner hears the words before thought. She looks down at her trembling hands in her lap. Hoping that another deep breath will help, she looks up at him, fear etched upon her pale face.

"It is through the murderers eyes that I see what is happening." She replies.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

"Ever since I can recall, I've been blessed or in some cases cursed with this. Agent Gideon," she pauses looking at him. "I have yet to be wrong." Her shoulders slump.

"Will you excuses us for a moment please? Jason." They exchange quick glances and head out of the office. "What the hell is that?"

"Henderson had an officer bring her over."

"You can't seriously be considering her 'story' are you?" he snaps.

"Well, right now we have nothing but a profile."

"Have you considered the possibility that she is the un-sub?"

"Injecting herself within the investigation to control if and or when we find the final nail?"

"Exactly."

"I've thought about it," he holds his hand out palms up. "Highly doubt it though."

"You are unbelievable. In all the years that we have worked together, I've never known you to fly so far out in left field that I am seriously considering the level of your sanity."

"I'll keep that in mind." He turns back to his office and Hotchner nearly storms off in frustration to his own. He knows as well as everyone else on the case that the probability of more victims is nil. Unfortunately, this will leave them with a cold trail that will only freeze until the un-sub's next cycle.

"Agent Gideon, I think I know who you're looking for." She turns in her seat towards the open door. He pauses, his lips part as if to say something, but all he can manage is a nod of encouragement. She rests her elbows on her thighs and lets her head fall into her hands. He rests a comforting hand on her shoulder and then kneels beside her. She sighs and turns to face him.

Leading her from his office, Gideon tries to make her feel as though she has done the right thing, a warm, comforting expression on his face seems to do the trick and she reciprocates with a timid smile of her own as the elevator doors close.

* * *

The room is cold, not just in temperature, but its reflected in décor as well as the stiff unfeeling officer that stands at the door. She shifts in the uncomfortable metal chair, her heart pounding in her ears, her slender fingers like ice cubes, her alabaster skin drained of any blood, and her eyes remain fixated upon the tabletop. Hotchner, Morgan and Reid are the first group to arrive at the station. They wait patiently in the adjoining room, observing her through the one-way glass. Hotchner gets a read on the young women. When she briefly looks up, fear is the only reflection in her eyes and his jaw involuntarily tightens in anticipation of the up coming resolution. 

"How long do we wait?" Morgan inquires impatiently.

"They're stuck in traffic." Hotchner replies as he tightens his arms across his chest.

"I don't think that she can take much more." Reid observes. "I think you may want to begin the interview."

"We wait until Gideon arrives. I think it best that he conduct the interview. From what he has told me about her." He stops himself.

"What?"

"Let's just say that this is a very delicate case." He corrects himself and the door opens.

"Gideon, I'm glad you're here. Hotchner refused to begin the interview without you conducting it." Reid says as Elle hands Gideon a file containing crime scene photographs and other significant information pertaining to the case.

"Thank you." He smiles warmly, she nods and mouths good luck before he enters the interrogation room. Hotchner flips the switch, allowing them to hear the conversation.

Gideon closes the door behind him, takes his time in gathering himself, then sits himself in the chair across from her. He is slightly surprised by her response, her eyes never leaving the tabletop.

"Sarah Martin is it?" he inquires in a kindly tone, reflecting in his soft, caring expression, which she would see if she would only look up at him.

"Yes." Her voice is small and timid. Fear, plain and simply is etched in her tone and her posture. He wonders which method will best suit coaxing her out of the shadow.

"I'm Agent Jason Gideon. I understand that you have full knowledge as to why you are here." She merely nods; her eyes remain glued to the table. "Sarah, I need your help in understanding what's happened." He continues to coax her out of her shell. Sitting for a long moment, she finally tucks a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Slowly, she looks up and takes in the man sitting in front of her, she allows herself to relax.

"They told me that I killed several men."

"Twelve to be exact."

"I would never do that. I didn't do that. I haven't done anything wrong." She tilts her head to avoid looking at him and he can see the onset of tears.

"Okay, so what you're saying is that you had nothing to do with the recent string of murders?" he cannot help but be blunt, had he continued to pussy foot, he knows he would get nothing.

"Murders?" her eyes widen in shock as though hearing the word for the first time. Hotchner taps the glass gently. Gideon opens the file and removes the most recent photo.

"Vince Jones."

"Who?"

"A real estate broker you picked up at a nearby night spot." He lets her take the photograph and look at it for a moment.

"I don't go out at night." She replies calmly, realising that there would have been no way for her to commit the crimes they are accusing her of. "I don't really have a job that lends itself to having the time to commit such acts."

"We have eye witness reports placing you at several popular night spots." He adds.

"You must have the wrong person. There is no way that I could have done that." She points at the photograph.

"Yet your own sister claims to have experienced your actions." He lets the bomb sink in.

"No, no, no, no." she repeats quietly. "I didn't do it. I couldn't have done it." She begins to cry and her body trembles slightly. Gideon watches as her posture unexpectedly changes and just as suddenly her eyes goes dark.

"No, she didn't." the timid voice changes and is replaced with a strong tone. He watches as her eyes are nearly black and her body language changes. She appears more confident, more in control. Everyone can tell in an instant that it does not belong to the mousy woman of a moment ago.

"Oh my." Elle utters under her breath.

"What is it?" Hotchner inquires standing beside her, watching, waiting.

"This explains the missing piece." She covers her mouth. "Multiple personality disorder." She sighs.

The dark eyes that rest on Gideon are cunning and he sees the eyes of a murderer. Recognising the change in her behaviour, Gideon squares his shoulders in response to her obvious change, and hands her another photograph.

"Bruce Bennett."

"A disgusting hunter. I watched that one for a while. He always preyed upon the weakest of the group, the one who was in dire need of reassurance. He would take them back to his place and force them to have sex with him. Why does a man get away with such behaviour? What of his intended victim, as she quickly becomes labelled a slut, she can't report it? He'll only say it was consensual." She trails off a low growl. "How fair is that?"

"How fair is it that you deem yourself judge, jury, and executioner?" his tone harsh.

"I didn't kill those men. Yes, I observed them, but I'm too good for them. Tell me this. Why would I fraternise with such garbage." She snaps and seems to sink into the hard chair. As sudden as her eye turned dark, they change back to amber right before his eyes.

"Excuse me for a moment please." He stands and makes a quick exit.

"What is it Jason?" Hotchner inquires from his place.

"This is a bit more complicated then we had anticipated." He leans against the wall and scratches his chin. "Sarah didn't commit those heinous crimes."

"Gideon, she suffers from multiply personality disorder. In her mind, she wasn't there, but she could have had a black out or lost time." Reid says from his corner.

"True, but she isn't the un-sub." He turns away. Hotchner stares at the women in the next room for a long moment. "Then what are we to do? We have a profile, we know that the un-sub is female, we have Sarah Martin in custody," he pauses and his mouth nearly drops. "What a story. Frame your own sister for your actions."

Elle looks down at the floor for a moment. Without another word, she opens the door. Sarah looks up at her, amber eyes holding questions, still revealing fear and uncertainty.

"I'm Elle Greenaway. I hear that you're in a bit of a predicament." She sits in the seat vacated by Gideon.

"I work in the crime lab, always on call twenty-four seven. How could I have had the chance to do what he says I did." Elle watches her expression, confusion the only emotion washing over her. "Is my sister here? Did they call her?" she twists her hands in her lap nervously.

"What is it that they say you've done?" Elle leans in towards her resting her arms on the table.

"He said that I did that!" she points at the photograph. "There's no way I could have done that to him." She shakes and covers her face with her small hands in disgust.

"I don't know how else to tell you this, and I'm sure Gideon has already told you, there is physical evidence supporting that claim." She says stretching the truth beyond recognition, hoping to get some sort of confession, or maybe even evoke the other personality again. It doesn't work, as Sarah has convinced herself that she has done nothing wrong and sits back in her seat. "I strongly suggest representation." Elle adds making a move to stand.

"I'm so tired." She says quietly, tears of exhaustion and fatigue begin the process of setting in.

"That doesn't surprise me. If what we think is happening to you, then anyone would be exhausted." She stands and makes her way towards the door.

"Elle?"

"Yes Sarah?"

"Can you help me? I couldn't have done this." She says just above a whisper.

"We'll try." She replies stepping out and closing the door behind her.

"That's the closest thing we have to a confession." Morgan rolls his eyes. Reid steps forward, he stares at the young woman sitting on the other side of the glass.

"Reid, what is it?" Hotchner reaches out and taps the straight shoulder. Reid sighs and shakes his head.

"The best place for her would be a mental facility. A place where she can be treated for her ailment, maybe even 'cured', and I use the term loosely, then possibly reintroduced to society."

"I don't know. She's committed twelve, possibly more, murders in a span of six months." Morgan claps Reid's shoulder and smiles warmly. "I don't know what judge or jury would not want to have her pay for her crimes."

"Stop talking as though she's the un-sub. She's not." Elle snaps as they watch another officer enter the room, handcuffing her and taking her to a holding cell to await her fate.

To be continued...


	4. Curiouser and Curiouser

Man this is so utterly redundant, but here we go. The disclaimer can be found in the first chapter. As previously stated I've been dancing around the whole un-sub issue... I don't really know if this helps the issue,... or not. In any case, I hope that you enjoy it (As I think it goes from bad to worse)...

* * *

"What do you suggest the department do?" Henderson inquires from his doorway. Hotchner and Gideon both pause and turn to face him.

"At this point it becomes a matter of whether or not the un-sub strikes again." Hotchner replies with a shrug. 

"Sarah is in custody, so in theory the murders should end." He tilts his head in thought. "Our un-sub, however, cannot stop. She has to fulfil the pattern of behaviour."

"So what you're saying is she's still out there?" both Gideon and Hotchner nod in unison. "I suppose we ought to beef up security in the area."

"You have the working profile." Hotchner adds.

"Hang on a minute. The media haven't connected the dots so the un-sub, providing it isn't Sarah's sister, doesn't know that we have Sarah in custody. Perhaps holding a press conference is in order."

"Gideon?" Hotchner raises an eyebrow.

"If this un-sub is anything like her male counterpart, then finding out that the police have made an arrest might draw her out. It might even cause her to break her pattern."

"Which might give us exactly what we need." Hotchner smiles, following Gideon's logic. "I'll have J.J. present the facts as we see fit. It should make this evenings news." He adds rushing off.

"I don't know." Henderson shakes his head.

"It's a method that has brought us quite a bit of success in the past." Gideon says quietly. "Hopefully it will help us in this case as well." He adds turning on his heel, he meets the rest of the team in the parking lot.

The moment the elevator doors part, Hotchner steps off and heads straight to J.J.'s office. He knows that she usually isn't there. However, with their current case brewing, he figures it's as safe a bet as any. Looking up from one of the many files cluttering her desk, she shakes her head with a smile.

"Connecting to dots is the easy part." She begins.

"What's the hard part?" he inquires sitting himself in the chair in front of her desk.

"Convincing the media that firstly, we have established a pattern they hadn't considered and secondly, that the murderer isn't male."

"They eat this stuff up. It's just another story to cover. You know as well as I do that they will sensationalise this as much as any other." He motions for her brief notes. Glancing over them, he nods his approval. "I'd say you have a handle on the proper amount of information to provide them with."

"You doubted me?" she asks, her expression changing slightly.

"Of course not, we just want to be sure that we don't offer them the whole buffet." He hands her back her notes. "I know that you are capable of handling the media. I suppose it's my negative experience with the press that somehow stays with me." His eyes go dark for a moment.

"Hotchner, any DA in your position and having to work on a case so closely followed and scrutinised by the media would have your perspective." She sighs adding a few points. "Hotchner, I followed the case just as closely. You are more media savvy than you think." She adds with a wink.

"Thanks. Oh and J.J.?"

"Yes?" her hair falls from behind her ear, and she quickly tucks it back in place.

"Good luck tonight." She nods with one of her usual bright smiles and watches as he walks to the media room in wait for her media appearance. Most of the team have already assembled in wait, fingers crossed that Gideon's read on their un-sub is correct and they will be able to put the case to bed. Hotchner turns on one of the many televisions in the room and they collectively hold their breath in anticipation.

"Breaking news this evening begins with another mysterious murder. Bruce Bennett was found dead in his apartment early this morning. Virginia police and the FBI have been working together to make the arrest." The news anchor states sifting through the pages he holds in his hands. "We now go to Pauline Drake at the Virginia Police Department where Special Agent Jennifer Jareau is addressing the media."

"The behavioural analysis unit has put together a working profile, from which Virginia PD have made an arrest in connection with the murder of Bruce Bennett. Local police have connected his murder with a slew of others that began in early February. I am sure that you have many questions, most of which I hope to address at this time."

"How is it that this has been going on for so long and no one has made the connection until now?" the voice comes from somewhere within the muddle of media.

"Virginia PD had no reason to connect the crimes. Until recently, there had been no physical evidence that could link their suspect to the crime scene. I should point out that the media has indeed had access and reported on the cases." She adds looking into one of the cameras.

"That's our J.J." Morgan says under his breath. Elle's attention is drawn towards Gideon, who seems to be sitting under a dark cloud.

"Aren't you going to tell us who has been arrested for the murders?" another reporter calls.

"At this time I cannot say. Once we have completed our investigation, a press package will be circulated." She replies simply. Hotchner turns off the television and the team sigh in relief.

"The un-sub will see that and I'm sure will come out and play." He puts the remote on the table and sits back in his seat.

"This could also adversely affect the un-sub, possibly encouraging her to remain concealed." Reid's eyebrows furrow and he sighs quietly.

"I suppose, however, I highly doubt that." Gideon appears confident of another murder. "I only hope that we can prevent that from occurring." He tilts his head in thought for a moment. "We've stepped up plain clothed officers in and around the un-subs hunting grounds." He rests his elbows on the high back of Elle's chair.

"How long will we have to wait?" Morgan says in an impatient tone. Gideon nearly rolls his eyes.

"Patience is a virtue. As is time, both of which we're running out of. Like you, I am not waiting for our next crime scene." He runs his hand down his face and cradles his head in his hand for a moment. "I know it's hard to wait." He adds with a sigh and nods towards Hotchner before heading out of the room to his office.

"Hey Reid, want to come to the Vixen for drinks and meet some ladies?" Morgan inquires with his caddish grin. Reid looks away for a moment before opening his mouth to say something. "Why be shy? Just come and have some fun." He stands and makes his way out of the conference room. Elle has slipped out and Reid springs to his feet.

"Sounds like a plan." He seems to enjoy the shock on Morgan's face.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Reid stops at his desk, collects a few papers, puts others in his desk drawer, locking it, he hooks his messenger bag across his lean torso.

"Shall we?" Morgan's eyes reveal a bit of mischief as he closes and locks his desk drawers. "Coming Elle?"

"Not tonight. I have a few things to take care of." She replies, opening another file, she cocks her head. "Have a good time though." She winks at the young profiler. He looks down at his feet for a moment then follows Morgan to the elevators.

Closing yet another volume, Elle sighs and stretches her long back. Hardly realising the time, that she ought to have gone home hours ago, she heads to the break room for some coffee, just enough to tie her over until she gets through the last of the many reports that clutter her desk. Paperwork always feels like a never-ending aspect of the job. Standing in front of the coffee machine, she waits, mulling over the facts of their recent case.

"Still here?" she recognises his voice, rich and kind. She turns to face him.

"Well I had a lot to do before the weekend." She pours the freshly brewed coffee into two mugs and holds one out towards him.

"Thanks, how did you know?" he inquires watching her pour milk into hers. She doesn't answer, doesn't want him to know that she knew he would still be here.

"I don't know. I Just had a feeling." She replies stirring. They walk towards his office and he sits behind his desk while she occupies one of the only free chairs before it. "I've always liked your office." She says after taking a sip.

"Sometimes I think I see more of it than my home." His chuckle is throaty and as warm as the expression in both his face and reflected in his eyes. She looks around briefly. The only light in the office casts a soft glow upon his features. Sitting back in his seat, he takes another sip of coffee.

"Gideon, do you think it's possible that someone has orchestrated this whole situation?"

"I don't see why someone would do such a thing." His eyebrows furrow in thought.

"Well, I know it seems odd, but Sarah's sister seemed to know too much. From what Hotch told me, she's somewhat strange."

"Jane claims that she observed the murders through the eyes of the murderer."

"Yes, but you told me yourself that she pinned these murders on her own sister." She leans forward, placing the mug on his desk and resting her elbows on her thighs. "If I thought my sister had done something like that, I wouldn't turn her in. I would."

"Do whatever you could to protect her." He finishes her thought and she nods her agreement. "Sarah works for forensics. She would have the kind of knowledge necessary to clean the crime scene."

"True enough, however, I'm still not totally convinced that she is our un-sub." Elle sighs and rubs her stiff neck. "Has forensics come back on the kiss?"

"Last I spoke with Henderson, he said that they were able to pick up trace evidence from the hot pink lipstick found on the victim's forehead."

"I asked Reid if there where any themes or patterns and he had said that they didn't have anything definitive. Except that the crime scenes were all cleaned. This information might actually assist Virginia PD apprehending their suspect." She shakes her head.

"So why didn't you go out with Reid and Morgan after shift?" he inquires, changing the subject.

"Had some paperwork to finish up before the weekend." She looks down. "I wanted to start next week fresh. Besides, it's really not my scene."

"I suppose it isn't." he pauses, tilting his head. "I'd have to say that you're more apt to go out to a nice restaurant and maybe some dancing?" he adds and she nods with a smile.

"There's really only one problem with your assessment." She sits back in the chair.

"Oh?"

"Time has become a luxury that I seem to have less and less of. My social life has literally plummeted to the point where I cannot help but wonder why I do what I am doing." She runs her fingers through her hair and plays with a soft curl. "Back in Seattle, I remember spending my weekends with friends. There was this fantastic restaurant on the coast where we would eat and dance the night away." Her lips curl at the memory. "I miss those days. I miss the days when I could just be."

"Free?" his features warm under the desk lamp. "Elle, you're still young, you still have so many experiences, both good and bad to encounter and enjoy." He grins and his expression changes for a moment as though recalling his own youth.

"I suppose; however, I highly doubt that freedom is usually accompanied by fear." Looking away, then down at her lap. She hears him shift in his seat before he stands.

"Elle, I know that what you have been through hasn't been easy for you. I have made it more than perfectly clear that my ear is available should you need it." He says softly and she can feel his comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's been a very long day and I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How would you feel about joining me for dinner?" the words leave his lips without much thought, but then again the moment presented itself.

"Dinner sounds like a good idea." She leans over and picks up her mug, stands and takes his as well. "I'll meet you in the bullpen?"

"In a few minutes." He says going back to his desk and begins closing some of the many files that clutter its top.

Elle stands in the ill-lit break room washing out their mugs. Putting them back in the cupboard, she sighs contently before making her way to the bullpen and her desk. Gathering a few files, she happily puts the rest away. Grabbing her purse, she pushes her chair in as Gideon arrives at the top of the steps.

* * *

"This case continues to get curiouser and curiouser." Reid states under his breath with a smirk as they arrive at yet another crime scene. "The un-sub has to have regressed." He stands beside Morgan and they view the scene. 

"Elle and Gideon aren't coming." Hotchner says from behind them and the three continue to observe as the crime scene investigators and the coroner do their thing.

"Why not?" Morgan inquires as one of the photographers shoos them out of the way and the loud pop of yet another flash can be heard.

"They are working on another angle." He stops for a moment. "Be sure to check the lipstick." He adds before gesturing for another photographer to take a photo of the shredded sheet. "We need as many photographs as you can provide us with."

"Of course." He replies joining another forensic officer.

"I suppose there really isn't much more that we can do here." Raid turns to go.

"There seems to be a bit more in terms of physical evidence. Not only was this murder unplanned, I would hedge a bet that it was a copy cat."

"Why would you come to that conclusion? We have a quote, unquote suspect in the case. Would that not draw out the actual suspect."

"Yes, however, in this case I disagree with the whole 'other' concept." Hotchner says rolling his eyes.

"Oh, okay." Reid follows the others out and they head back to Quantico.

"Good morning." Elle says from her desk. Morgan stars at her for a long moment.

"Morning Elle. Why weren't you at the latest crime scene?"

"As far as I know, Gideon knew that the three of you could handle it."

"What's up with you?" he inquires with one of his cad glances.

"Nothing. Just got eight solid hours of sleep last night is all."

"I'm sure that once we wrap up this case, some serious vacation time will be in order." Morgan grins as Hotchner descends the short flight of stairs into the bullpen.

"Elle, you and Gideon were right."

To be continued...


	5. Not Quite Full Circle

I give you my word that this is the final chapter in this story and it's a fairly short one. I hope that I haven't messed it up too horribly by toying with the whole issue of the un-sub until its completion (That's why it took me so long to actually post it). As per the norm, my disclaimer resides in the first chapter. Please feel free to leave a review (Even if you feel its a tiny or a huge oversight on my part.. i.e.: I used a name in a previous chapter and 'changed it' in another, that happens sometimes as I'm writing because I 'forget' to review the previous sections before running with the current.

* * *

"Say what?" Morgan's head snaps up from the file he has been going over.

"I'm not sure how surprising this finding is, but the trace DNA found on the lipstick on the victims is male." He holds out the file towards her. She skims the contents quietly then nods.

"Once again, wrong un-sub." Reid shakes his head. "So now what? And Hotch please don't tell me that we have to wait for another victim. There have already been far too many deaths." He looks down for a long moment.

"We've done everything that we can. Gideon is right and right now it truly becomes a matter of time. We've accelerated the un-subs behaviour to the point where he isn't following a pattern out of the compulsion or need to fulfil whatever feeling he seeks, it's become something far greater than that." Hotchner stands beside Gideon and the group continue to go over the facts as they know them.

"Do you think that either Sarah or Jane know who the un-sub is and could be covering for him?" Reid's expression lights up hoping to close the case.

"At this point, I'd say that nearly anything is possible." Morgan twirls his pen, sitting back in his seat. "Elle, what made you think about the lipstick?"

"The kiss seemed to be a common theme, threading the crime scenes together. I'm surprised that no one paid them as much attention. It's possible that had someone examined them, they would have the findings we need to get him."

"Nigel Martin."

"Why does that name seem so familiar?" Morgan inquires giving Elle a strange look.

"His rap sheet is rather extensive." She slides the file towards him.

"Ah, he's five six. Actually, judging by this photograph he's slighter than our boy Reid here, which would make it possible for him to dress like a lady. We are still lacking a motive though."

"Hey sweet cheeks." Garcia's voice seems to boom from the door. "I checked out the victims for rap sheets and whatnot. According to the ultimate database of knowledge, all of our victims have charges against them for rape." She hands Gideon the files.

"Thank you." He says opening one and glancing through it. "We have motive, we have DNA evidence."

"They have their suspect." Hotchner rings off and they breathe a collective sigh of relief. All eyes rest on Elle.

"What?"

"How did you know?" Morgan injects before anyone else has the chance. The team expect Gideon to have all the answers, to always have that ace in his back pocket.

"It really was a feeling I couldn't shake. Think about how convenient the 'I saw it happening through my sisters eyes' suggestion had been. That really didn't sit well with me. I've heard of a similar method, but as a spiritual expedition to seek answers. If Jane didn't truly have that experience, how would she have been privy to information that hadn't been in any way aired or published by the press? Besides, I know how the team, feels about multiple personality disorder— especially Gideon. It just appeared far too convenient of an escape. The fact that we 'played into their hand' helped us immensely. We out smarted the foxes in this case." She tilts her head. "Think of it this way. If I were the un-sub I would view what I've done as protecting women form the predators out there." She adds closing the file in front of her. "Oh, by the way. Have they released Sarah yet?"

"Yes, from the sounds of it I think they have. Why?" Reid looks quizzically at her.

"Well I was thinking that they ought to arrest Jane for aiding, or delaying, or something." The smile tugging at Reid's thin lips begins to show.

"I do find it strange that she had managed to play the role of one suffering from multiple personality disorder so well. I honestly thought she even had you believing Gideon." He adds.

"Perhaps she really does have it and has been able to cope with it." Garcia says from the door.

"Garcia, please tell me that you don't believe in that crap." Gideon sighs and she looks at him in thought.

"We there are some things that cannot be explained. Not all bumps in the night are scientifically proven. Anyways, I'll catch you guys later." She adds turning on her heel and retreating to her office.

"Henderson asked that you conduct questioning." Hotchner returning their conversation back to the un-sub. Gideon nods his ascent.

"Elle?" she gathers the files and follows him.

"What's up with them?" J.J. asks. Morgan shrugs. "I had better prepare for this evenings inquisition." She rolls her eyes as she collects a few files and heads to her office. Morgan motions to Reid and they follow suit, happy to have another case complete.

"I presume that you received the recent memo regarding vacation time?" Hotchner inquires before they make their way to their desks.

"How did you swing that?" Morgan smiles happily. As the three make their way out of the conference room and down towards the bullpen.

"Gideon and I thought it would balance things out. Seeing that the team seems to work best as a cohesive unit, we felt that co-ordinating vacation time was the most efficient method. Besides, even I can appreciate time away from what we deal with on a daily basis." He smiles at the thought of spending time at home with his family. Directing his glance at Reid. "Reid, are you okay?" Reid nods with a far away look.

"I called my man in Jamaica. Elle and I are going there for vacation. Hey Reid, I can still swing you a cheap room." Morgan displays his happy grin with pride.

"Thanks, but I think I'll visit my mother. I haven't had the chance to see her." Reid sits back in his seat. "I wonder how things are going with Nigel."

"I'm sure we'll have a closed case by the end of business." His grin lights up his usually dark, stoic features.

* * *

Gideon has chosen to stand, leaning against the wall with his hands behind him. Nigel Martin sits at the table, resting his clasped hands on its top. Elle sits in one of the other seats at the table, her files sitting in front of her, she turns to glance at Gideon. Pushing himself away from the wall, he seems to wring his hands.

"Perhaps you could explain your reasoning. Help us understand exactly why you do what you do." His tone is calm, yet he remains standing.

"Those bastards deserved everything they got. Do you even know how many women had been raped? Far too many to count and the kicker is that they had gotten away with it for too long." He clenches his teeth. "My own sister, I think you met her, Jane fell victim to the last one," he straightens himself in his seat, "and I would do it again."

"Dressing as a defenceless woman is quite a feat." Elle looks him in the eye. "Normally, a man displays his masculinity. Yet you managed to fool them by taking on the persona and concealing it."

"How else do you think I got them where I wanted them. I couldn't very well have an accomplice now could I?"

"I suppose not. This explains the grandiose display of power and the lack of sex."

"You don't think I'm?"

"It's just that usually with these types of crime, we see a balance of sex and power. I must admit that you threw us off slightly, which made for a more interesting case."

"Great, now I'm some case study." He says under his breath.

"In any case, I would suggest that you get yourself a very good lawyer. Murder is a big deal." Gideon stands behind Elle. "Even if you think you were doing something good."

"You both know as well as I do that if I hadn't stopped them, more women would have been harmed." His expression remains even.

"I don't know if you realise how lucky you are." Gideon pauses in thought, leaning in towards Elle; he whispers something in her ear. "Once the lawyer arrives then everything will be finished up here." He places a hand on her shoulder. "Shall we?" Elle nods and they leave the un-sub in their wake.

"That's a confession if ever I heard one." Henderson states.

"Perhaps, but his tune may change." Elle answers. "Besides, you'll still want to see how involved Sarah and Jane are in this. He's hiding something." She adds as she and Gideon head out towards the parking lot.

"Thanks for your assistance. Maybe we'll work together another time."

"Maybe. You never know." Gideon replies as they get into the SUV. Pulling out of the lot, Gideon turns looks at Elle briefly. "I hear that you're going with Morgan to Jamaica for two weeks."

"Who told you?"

"I have my sources. Besides, Morgan is very excited about getting time off."

"As am I. Still can't see how you managed to get the whole team off though."

"Well J.J. will probably have some time off once we return. We were unable to procure her the same time off."

"Garcia as well. Morgan was a bit disappointed when she couldn't join us. Reid is going home to visit family and Hotch is probably going to enjoy ever nanosecond of his vacation with Haley and the little one." She sighs.

"You don't seem that happy about going away." He says turning onto Quantico's main street.

"Really I am." She smiles as he parks the SUV.

"Could have fooled me." He cuts the engine and they walk to the elevator. The doors part, and Morgan and Reid watch as they stop in Hotchner's office.

"So I suppose it's another closed case?" he looks up from the notation he had been making.

"As we suspected it would be." Gideon replies as Elle hands Hotchner the file and with a quick glance turns to meet Reid and Morgan in the bullpen.

"Is she okay?" Hotchner inquires, cocking a brow.

"I think once everyone returns from vacation, we'll all have a new perspective. She's tired. We all are." He crosses his arms across his chest.

"I know Jason, just took you long enough to recognise it." Hotchner says with a sigh. "I say we get out of here while the going is good." He adds closing the file and slipping a few things into his briefcase.

"You're right."

"Oh, and try not to stay too late. Go home! And that's an order." Hotchner adds turning out the desk lamp. Gideon nods with a smile and follows him out. Gideon walks down the narrow hallway to his office and begins to gather a few things, which would relieve his desk of some of the clutter. In his mind, he plans his dinner menu and mulls over a list of things to pick up from the store on the way home.

"Good night." Reid calls over his shoulder; Elle and Morgan look at each other for a long moment.

"Counting the days till we're on a beach?" he asks as he shoves some files into his desk drawer.

"You better believe it. Two weeks away. Scratch that, two weeks away from all of this will be a blessing." She smiles and tucks her chair in. "I'll see you in the morning." She adds.

"Hey wait up!" he catches up and the elevator doors open. Good night, Gideon thinks to himself happily, closing his door and heading through the deserted office to the elevator.

Fin


End file.
